


Distracted

by burlesque_articulation



Category: BioShock, BioShock Infinite
Genre: Jack gets a nosebleed, also tags for minor blood, i didn't have the strength to write what i original had in mind, i just want Jack to be happy but i don't know how to write that ???, i;m kind of crying guys ngl, so enjoy some hurt/comfort fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 08:02:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13585788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burlesque_articulation/pseuds/burlesque_articulation
Summary: "Do you think you can drown,Even when you're in the open air, Booker?""Yes. Even if you're on solid ground,You can fall an awful long way down."





	Distracted

**Author's Note:**

> Song [[X]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tgfjQIE9shk)

He was standing just inside the balcony door, looking out as the sun faded over the city's neatly placed buildings. The burning ball of light disappearing, and the expanse of stars taking over the sky as night settled over Columbia. He still couldn't quite describe how this place made him feel. It wasn't all that different from Rapture, really, except it lacked the crushing weight of knowing you were miles upon miles below the ocean and one stray crack in the dome would mean you were dead.

Here, on the other hand, you just had to make sure you didn't walk too far in the same direction, or you'd plummet to your death. He blew out a lung full of smoke into the night air, jarred from his train of thought when a hand snaked around his waist from behind, a hand coming up into his field of vision, snapping their fingertips aflame before him.

He shook his head, smiling only a touch. "I'm already lit, Booker."

He felt the man's chin against his shoulder as he hummed a sigh. "Maybe I'll get your next one for you then." He said, shaking out the flame.

Jack scoffed, "I'm not having another one today, unless you plan on being the death of me."

Booker shifted, eyeing him with a raised brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He almost replied before a thought crossed his mind. _You're in 1912, Jack._ "Nothing, don't worry about it." It would still be almost fifty years before anyone made the connection between smoking and lung cancer. "It's a nice night, isn't it?"

"Hm, kind of seems like a night like any other, actually."

Jack's head tilted to the side as Booker buried his face into the side of his neck, his mind somewhere else entirely as he stared vacantly at the darkening sky, his cigarette slowly burning itself out. Of course it was just like any other night, it's not like there was anything special happening up there beyond the stratosphere. No shooting stars, no meteor showers. Airlines weren't even a thing yet, so there were none of those blinking across the indigo canvas. his head felt fuzzy, and not just from the nicotine as he could feel the weight of the ocean weighing down on him, like he was standing in the heart of Rapture again, looking up at the darkening abyss of sea above and around him.

 _There's nothing there, nothing there for me_ \- but he still felt that pull to go back. _But I'm alone there- there's no one there_. In Rapture there was only himself and the deranged splicers, and man over a radio that he'd never even met before. And Andrew Ryan, the king of the quiet, ruined city where life could never find a way again. Jack didn't want to go back, he never wanted to go back there- but then he thought of the Little Sisters, still plucking their way through the debris, going through the same motions, again and again, the endless, agonizing cycle only being put to a stop when a splicer got enough juice to take out their assigned Big Daddy so they can harvest the poor little things of their Adam.

His cigarette had burned out and fallen from his hand only a few seconds before he fell over himself, not realizing it until he was laying on the floor with his head in Booker's lap, the man brushing his hands through his hair. "Hey, hey, Jack- Jackie."

Jack didn't even have the energy to react to the sudden change in position, only staring down at himself, feeling utterly disconnected from his body that lay in a sprawl. "Oh."

"Oh?" Jack rolled his head carefully so he was looking up at the man's slightly amused gaze. "That's all you have to say for yourself?"

"Mm, my bad?" His words slurred a bit as he tried to give his head a shake, but only succeeded in making his world spin again.

"Hey, hold still-"

"N' I'm good-"

"Jack, you have a nosebleed." Booker's voice was calm, but the tone was firm, managing to take the fight out of Jack who settled back against the man again, wiping his hand under his nose and looking down at the smear of red on his fingertips. Booker shifted, holding something under Jack's nose, and carefully putting the fabric in his hand. "Here, it's red, so we won't have to worry about the blood showing up on it."

Jack looked up at him again, keeping the clothe pressed against his nose, "as long as you don't plan on putting it back on before washing."

"Don't tempt me."

"You are gross, Booker." The man only laughed, running his hands through Jack's hair again, gently working into a rhythm of combing his fingers through the mess of brown locks.

It seemed like ages, but also like only seconds had ticked by before Booker broke the silence. "Were you..."

"Was I what?"

"Were you thinking about Rapture," he didn't say it like a question. Probably because it was more of a given then a possibility.

"Yeah."

More silence. "Do you want to go back?"

Jack glanced down where his cigarette butt was grazed by just enough wind from the open balcony to spark an ember into releasing a small tendril of smoke. "I don't know."


End file.
